Ugo's memories.

the mother.

Most main characters with fucked up father usually get a nice and kind mom. A female protector who makes them better and nicer.

Not me though. My mother just gave a birth to me because my grandfather asked her to. All she did was give me two meals a day, make everything my fault, blow out ciggies on my skin and slap me just in case i wanted to say a sentence.

She named me Ugo, the most disgusting name i could be called by my family. But since my grandpa is nice, he also chose a name Lewis.

The only quite nice time I had with her was when she teached me how to cook. I enjoyed watching her pretty hands mixing ingredients and touching hot things as if she felt nothing. Later I was told that she only teached me so that she didn't have to do it anymore.

It's quite sad. When I used to sit in kindergarten by myself, I watched all the kids running towards their moms, laughing and overflowing with joy. I didn't understand and no one understood me. She didn't smile at me when she saw me after a long day, she didn't run to greet me. She didn't hold my hand when I needed it.

I never really hated her, I was scared. Hate was a big word and if I used it on her, she would despise me even more.  She gavme me the life I disliked, but that was okay.

I liked the mom I saw the first time I opened my eyes. I remember her long brown hair falling on my cheeks, her fingers softly caressing my chubby face. She smelled like fresh wood and grass.

After she died with my step father in a car accident, our grandfather took us to his house. We didn't have much time to pack our stuff, not that there was a lot of it. Valentyn took all her short skirts and dresses that showed too much skin and we left the place forever.

I called her María, since the name 'mother' was forbidden in our household. Of course I learned it the hard way, no little child could possibly understand the concept of mother's name not being mother. I didn't want to end up with a broken jaw of course, so calling her María was easier.

That's how I met my harsh mother, the woman who failed me and let me down. The woman who didn't teach her child how to love, but to fear. But secretly I did both. I feared her when she was angry, I loved her when she pretended I don't exist.

I missed her when she was gone.